


Fifty

by RicochetRomance



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Chubby Kink, Crack, Humor, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Rated to be Safe, Swearing, Weight Gain, chubby Obi-wan, dubiously consensual kink, obikin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 08:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14807852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RicochetRomance/pseuds/RicochetRomance
Summary: Anakin makes poor decisions, Obi-Wan is a troll, and Mace disapproves. So, standard operating procedure.Please note that this is weight gain fanfiction - reader discretion is advised.





	Fifty

**Author's Note:**

> At the insistence of a close friend, I'm watching the entire Clone Wars TV series. 
> 
> What can I say? I was inspired.

"That'll be fifty credits." The bored Twilek at the cash register was chewing bubble gum, making her droning voice even less intelligible.

Anakin handed a credstick across the counter. It'd be half his monthly expense allotment (he refused to think of it as an allowance) but it'd be completely worth it.

"Alright," the cashier drawled, "you're done. Want a bag?" 

"No." Anakin scoffed. Who the fuck bothered bagging a single item? "Want a new job?" He wasn't remotely surprised when the Twilek flipped him off.

Jedi were supposed to be courteous, but he wasn't a Jedi right now. 

He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt and tinted sunglasses, listening to Huttese hip-hop music on too-loud earbuds. He'd violated at least twelve traffic laws on the drive over, on a speeder he hadn't asked permission to borrow. Now he was shopping at the Galactic Megamart at two in the afternoon, buying a little something that would make his perverted fantasies come true.

No, he definitely wasn't a Jedi right now. 

On the speeder drive back to the Temple, Anakin examined the innocuous little bottle he'd purchased. Sure, he should be keeping his eyes on the road, but it wasn't like the Force would let him crash.

It was a calorie supplement, in the form of a concentrated oil. Just one drop was an easy thousand. Flavourless, scentless, clear. Anakin idly wondered if the manufacturer had intended it to be pervert-friendly. 

A couple drops with breakfast, a couple with dinner. Not in his food, mind you, but in Obi-Wan's. It wasn't like the older man would notice the difference - well, not at first.

Call it a kink of his. Anakin had always found weight attractive, particularly on men. He was around his former master nearly every waking hour, so why not get some eye candy out of the deal? 

It would be hilarious to see how long it'd take Obi-Wan to notice - for the supposedly Perfect Jedi, he could be completely oblivious sometimes. Case in point, he still hadn't caught on to the fact that Anakin wanted to fuck him through a mattress. 

It wasn't like he hadn't been dropping hints. Hell, half the Temple dropped hints - there wasn't a Jedi alive who wouldn't jump at the chance to bang Kenobi.

Anakin clenched his teeth with frustration. He'd never admit that he was jealous, but if this little experiment happened to turn those horny bastards off... well, that would be a happy side effect.

Skidding the speeder back into Mace's parking spot, leaving the keys in the ignition, he shoved the bottle in his pocket. 

He'd start tonight. 

-

One week into the experiment, and Anakin could swear that Obi-Wan's taut musculature was already becoming less defined. 

A slight change, not one that even the Jedi master himself would notice. Anakin however, had spent the better part of a year eyeing up his former master, and was pretty sure that the change wasn't just his perverted imagination. 

One week into the experiment, at the breakfast table, leering over the edge of a datapad of lesson plans, appreciating every inch of Obi-Wan's bare torso. 

He's been reading the same page of that datapad for a month and a half now, and still hadn't memorized the schedule. Possibly why he was always late to teach his morning classes. And his lunch classes. And his afternoon classes. And his evening classes. 

Mace could complain all that he wanted - he wasn't the one being distracted by a shirtless Obi-Wan every morning.

Speaking of classes. For fuck's sakes, it felt like all he ever did anymore was teach. And not even the fun classes. No, he was stuck explaining the Jedi Code to younglings that were too collectively stupid to figure out which end of a lightsaber was dangerous. 

His last field mission had gone terribly, even he'd admit that, but this definitely qualified as cruel and unusual punishment. Possibly even torture. 

"You're going to be late." His former master observed, looking up from his plate of sabotaged scrambled eggs with that impossible little smirk on his lips. 

"Kriff it." Anakin snapped, taking a bite of toast. "The brats can wait." 

"Master Windu would beg to differ. As would I." The older man retorted dryly.

"Traitor." The supposed Chosen One grumbled. Obi-Wan was supposed to take HIS side. 

Slice of toast between his teeth, Anakin tossed the datapad onto the sofa and stalked out the door, his Force signature resentful enough to simultaneously violate three statutes of the aforementioned Code. He didn't notice the impact jarring loose the pad's current holo chip, or notice said chip falling under the coffee table. 

He didn't notice, but Obi-Wan did. As the door shut behind his former padawan, the Jedi master gave a sigh of exasperation. 

Anakin was messy by nature. Dirty dishes stacked on the counter, piles of clothes on the floor outside the fresher, droid parts always rolling underfoot. 

Another sigh. If the younger man didn't take responsibility for the consequences of his actions, he'd never learn - but Obi-Wan would rather not trip over that damn vocal processing unit for a third time this week. 

It seemed that Council member Kenobi was stuck doing the housekeeping. Again. 

He started with the holo chip. Fishing it out from under the table, he glanced at the label - apparently it was a documentary on the herbivorous species of Naboo.

The older Jedi scoffed incredulously - the day that Anakin started watching nature documentaries would be the day that Yoda started using proper sentence structure. 

So, what trivial nonsense was his former padawan actually watching? Loading the chip onto his own datapad, Obi-Wan decided that it would be prudent to find out.

It wasn't technically snooping - it was an investigation into possible misconduct. If this turned into a repeat of the twerking Bantha incident, the Council wouldn't be pleased.

It wasn't technically snooping - but that didn't mean that he wouldn't regret it.

-

The first month was over, and Anakin was becoming increasingly impatient - not that he'd had much patience to begin with.

Why was this taking so damn long? On an extra four thousand calories a day, the results should have been far more obvious. That slight softness had grown slightly softer, sure, but that was about it. 

Grumbling Huttese profanity under his breath, the Chosen One tipped six drops into Obi-Wan's usual scrambled eggs. Tripling the daily dosage was a drastic measure, but fuck - if this took any longer, Anakin swore that he'd die of sexual frustration. 

"Sith Hells!"

His former master bolted out of the fresher with a yelp of alarm, stark naked and dripping wet, and Anakin hid the bottle just in time. 

"Spider in the shower?" The younger man smirked, suppressing laughter at the absurdity of Obi-Wan's phobia. 

His master was blushing vibrantly, and that blush was steadily spreading southwards - along with the younger man's train of thought. 

"Anakin, please." Obi-Wan implored.

Anakin's smirk broadened as he reached for the flyswatter. Oh, how he'd love to hear that phrase in a completely different context. 

For now, though... He'd have to make do with eyeing Obi-Wan's reflection in the fresher mirror as he hunted down the errant arachnid. 

Sure, the older man's thighs were thicker, and his shoulders were rounding out, but his musculature was still partially visible. Particularly on that irritatingly flat stomach. 

Was it really too much to ask for his former master to fill out a bit? Or a lot? To gain a soft belly just perfect for cuddling, soft cheeks just perfect for kissing, a soft ass just perfect for -

Well, you get the point.

Crushing the spider to pulp with a sharp flick of the flyswatter, Anakin thanked the Force that the older man still hadn't noticed the small hole he'd cut in the window's bug netting. 

"Got it!" The younger man announced belatedly, turning to watch his master re-enter the fresher. 

"Much appreciated." Obi-Wan's sincerity was nearly palpable as he stepped back into the shower, pulled the transparent curtain halfway closed, and resumed washing his hair without so much as waiting for his former padawan to leave the room. 

Anakin's responding grunt was as much affirmation as it was frustration. If he didn't know better, he'd swear that the older man was being a tease on purpose. 

As if. 

Returning to the kitchen, the Chosen One shoved his bread into the toaster with even more ferocity than usual, crossing his fingers that the eggs didn't go cold before Obi-Wan was done showering. 

Idiot didn't even realize that he was attractive.

-

"The Force can do what?!" Anakin exclaimed incredulously, the wild gesture of his cybernetic arm nearly knocking a bottle of Bacta off the shelf.

Two months in, and at a complete loss for answers, the younger man had gone to do the one thing he loathed most - research. 

His hasty browse through the library had failed to turn up anything relevant - sure, five minutes probably hadn't been nearly long enough, but the place smelled like dust and old people. No-one halfway sane actually wanted to spend time down there.

In lieu of further suffering, Anakin had gone to ask the Healers. Patient confidentiality was taken VERY seriously at the Temple, so it wasn't like anyone would ever find out. Unless he kept shouting at the top of his lungs, that is.

"Since when!?" The young knight demanded. 

Master Luminara Unduli gave him a withering glare. "The ability to manipulate the rhythms of the body has always been available to skilled wielders of the Force." She replied patiently. "Your ignorance of the ability makes it no less effective." 

Fuck. Chances were, Anakin was supposed to have learned about it at some point - possibly during one of the classes he'd missed on off-planet assignment, or more likely during one of the innumerable classes he'd skipped to either train, sleep, or jerk off.

So. The Force could be used to manipulate the rhythms of the body - including metabolism. That would have been great to know two months and fifty credits ago. 

Still, something didn't quite add up. Stalking out of the Halls of Healing without further explanation, Anakin abruptly realized what that something was.

For the first week, his experiment had actually been working. Then, somehow, the older man had clued in - but instead of confronting him like a normal person, he had spent the next two months Force-manipulating his own body. 

Was Obi-Wan trying to frustrate him? To punish him? Because it was damn well working. Just... probably not in the sense that his former master intended.

By this point, Anakin had had it up to here with his ridiculously gorgeous, ridiculously stubborn master. If Obi-Wan wasn't going to confront him, he'd just confront Obi-Wan.

Stupid? Probably. Stupider than usual? Probably not. It wasn't like he had any better ideas. 

A cursory tug on the training bond that still connected the two men - Anakin kept conveniently forgetting to remind Obi-Wan to sever the damn thing - indicated that the older man was currently meditating in their apartment. 

Clenching his fist around the bottle in his pocket, the younger man turned down the corridor to his left, climbed two flights of stairs, turned left again, crossed a short footbridge, turned right, and stomped down two hundred meters of hallway to the galaxy's most familiar door.

It was now or never.

-

The small bottle hit the coffee table with a solid thunk. At this point, Anakin couldn't have cared less if it broke.

Pulled back to reality from his cross-legged meditation on the sofa, Obi-Wan raised an inquiring eyebrow without even bothering to open his eyes. 

His former padawan's Force signature was a whirling mess of emotions - well, more so than usual. Predominant among them were frustration, ire, betrayal, and... was that lust?

Now THIS was getting interesting.

"There's clearly something troubling you," the older man observed blandly. "Would you care to discuss it?"

"How did you find out?" The younger man blurted the question without preamble, but Obi-Wan knew exactly what he was talking about. 

"Your desires are hardly subtle." The older man smirked, watching a humiliated blush spread across Anakin's face. 

Before the younger man could start to panic - he was already trying to figure out when and how exactly his shields had failed - his former master clarified. "Nor are the labels on your explicit holo chips." 

The Chosen One went from humiliated to mortified in one-point-three seconds flat. "Which ones did you find?" Anakin groaned.

"I was unaware that there was more than one." Obi-Wan lied, amused smirk broadening as he watched his former padawan squirm. The older man knew damn well that there were at least three dozen hidden under Anakin's mattress, eleven tucked away in Anakin's sock drawer, and seventeen more mixed in with the container of loose droid parts on Anakin's desk. 

"I believe," he continued lightly, "that the title was ‘Chocolate-Chip Twilek Muffins’?"

"Kriff." Anakin swore. That was one of the kinkier ones - one that featured several chubby actors of either gender, at least three separate stuffing scenes, a literal orgy, and no shortage of sensual food play. 

He was in deep shit, and he knew it. Jedi weren't supposed to have sex, never mind being into fetishes that even mainstream society didn't accept. Jedi weren't even supposed to think about sex, never mind trying to trick non-consenting partners into becoming fetish objects. 

In that moment, Anakin felt even stupider than those youngling brats he was stuck teaching. 

He'd be kicked out of the Order so hard that Mace's boot would probably get stuck up his ass, and it wouldn't even have been worth it - the Perfect Jedi still wasn't remotely decent eye candy. 

Then, the younger man realized that his former master was laughing. What the actual fuck?

"Anakin," the older man chuckled. "If you had wanted a partner that badly, you need only have asked."

Yeah, and that right there was the problem - he hadn't asked.

Wait, had Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Temple's second-strictest adherent of the Jedi Code, just said "partner"? As in attachment? As in the one thing they definitely weren't allowed to have?

"I did." The older man confirmed wryly. 

It was about time for his former padawan to learn the truth - that when they finally became masters, Jedi were once again allowed to feel every emotion forbidden by the Code. 

Master Yoda took great pride in the Order's successes. Master Windu was privately afraid of failure. Master Plo Koon cared for a downright menagerie of strays. Master Unduli was hopelessly in love with her former padawan...

And so was Master Kenobi. 

Anakin wasn't nearly a master yet, but Obi-Wan knew that he could convince the Council to make an exception. And get them a better apartment. And maybe even increase their monthly expense allotment while he was at it.

What? He'd seen the way those horny bastards looked at him.

-

"I still don't believe it," Anakin groaned contentedly. And he didn't. This was all just one incredibly long, blisteringly hot dream. 

His former master, having actual emotions. His former master, wanting to fuck him through a mattress. His former master, actually fucking him through a mattress.

"That the Jedi reward honesty?" Obi-Wan inquired smugly. 

Lounging against the older man's bare chest in a tangled mess of sheets, Anakin just rolled his eyes. He was too sated right now to bother talking back.

Still...

"There's something else I want to try," the younger man admitted. Might as well make this dream completely perfect. 

He took the older man's raised eyebrow as an invitation to continue. "Remember the second scene from ‘Chocolate Chip Twilek Muffins’?" The Chosen One's grin was decidedly unashamed.

"Vividly." Obi-Wan replied wryly. Such a shameless display of such a soft body was practically impossible to forget. That scene - and that holovid in general - had prompted the discovery of a kink he'd never known he had.

"I want to see you like that." The younger man finally confessed - two months late was still probably better than never. "So soft that I can use you as a pillow, so fat that your robes barely fit, literally eating chocolate out of my hand. I want you to gain weight for me."

"You've certainly been trying," the older man observed with a chuckle. Anakin winced at the reminder.

"I have one condition," his former master continued, mischief in his eyes. The younger man's breath caught in his throat. It was now or never. "We will be doing this properly - with meals, not supplements. If you intend to make me fat, I intend to enjoy it."

"Deal," Anakin laughed with relief, pulling Obi-Wan in for a passionate, breathless kiss (or five). Now, this dream really WAS perfect.

It wouldn't be until about forty-three pounds down the line, after a particularly scathing lecture from Mace about the fact that his definition of eye candy was decidedly not universal, that the Chosen One realized he wasn't actually dreaming. 

Had that innocuous little bottle been worth fifty credits?

Fuck yes.

**Author's Note:**

> This is only my second foray into writing this kink - any feedback is definitely appreciated.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
